<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Black and White by Rayvee</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29373975">Black and White</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayvee/pseuds/Rayvee'>Rayvee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To be Inhuman [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hermitcraft RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eldrich!Joe, Ex-watcher!Grian, Gen, I cannot afford another big multichap, I hope, I'm neglecting two of them as is., Tag wranglers stop tagging Hermitcraft as RPF challenge, This will only have a few chapters, Winged!Grian, Yes this is another ex-watcher!Grian story, because why not, more tags will be added as needed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:02:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29373975</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayvee/pseuds/Rayvee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Joe calls Grian up out of the blue, the last thing Grian expects is to find Cleo missing, with a ransom book marked with a familiar symbol, one he'd thought he'd escaped for good. </p><p>When Joe informs Grian he's going after his best friend, Grian reluctantly agrees to tag along, worried that Joe will just get himself and Cleo killed if he tries to take down the beings that took the zombie.</p><p>Of course, Joe is quite capable of taking care of himself. </p><p>Not that his hermits know it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe Hills &amp; ZombieCleo, Joe hills &amp; Grian, No Romantic Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To be Inhuman [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157696</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>154</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grian couldn’t help but chuckle as he dived back into the sewers. It was about time he decorated, after all. The design was fairly simple- mostly stone brick variants- and it wasn’t long before he fell into the familiar trance of building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been at it for about an hour before his communicator buzzed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;joehillssays&gt; Hey Grian, where are you?<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Grian&gt; Um.<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Grian&gt; Definitely not Keralis’ base.<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;joehillssays&gt; Can we meet up?<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Xisuma&gt; Is something wrong?<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;joehillssays&gt; No<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;joehillssays&gt; Definitely not<br/>
&lt;joehillssays&gt;Why would you think that<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;joehillssays&gt; Need to get a second opinion on something.<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Grian&gt; Sure, we can meet up<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Grian&gt; Where are you right now?<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;joehillssays&gt; Your base.<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;Grian&gt; Meet you there!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian beat his wings and soared over Keralis’ city. He caught an updraft and rode it, relishing the feeling of being free with only the clouds for company. Flight was exhilarating- the feeling of riding the air currents, adjusting his feathers to glide </span>
  <em>
    <span>just so. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He never tired of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All too soon, the Big Dig came into view, and Grian banked to the right, curving toward his mansion. He could see Joe there, standing on the steps up, but before Grian could land, he took off in a burst of rocket fire. The other hermit beckoned Grian, and then started gliding away. He was surprised Joe didn’t so much as say ‘howdy’, but he shrugged it off. Joe was an odd one.<br/>
</span>
  <span>He could catch up just fine, anyway. Flying with wings was always faster than an elytra, and Joe wasn’t exactly the best flier on the server.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Joe! What’s going on?"<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Howdy, Grian. I just want to see if you recognize something.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh, cool.” Grian was starting to feel worried. Joe being vague and cryptic was normal, but Joe being grim and serious was decidedly not.<br/>
</span>
  <span>“What is it?” he prompted after a moment, trying to get Joe talking. It was unnerving to see the man so quiet.<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You’ll see.” Joe didn’t speak again for the rest of the flight.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>They were above Cleo’s base, which took Grian by surprise- usually the flight was noticeably longer, and he hadn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cub’s pyramid. <br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>I must have zoned out.<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>Joe was diving, and Grian moved to follow him. The older hermit didn’t even glance back at the winged man; he just strode towards the entrance to Cleo’s underground area. <br/>
</span>
  <span>Grian followed him with a feeling of dread. Something bad had happened, he was sure of it. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Cleo’s bedroom was in ruins. <br/>
</span>
  <span>The shelves had been torn off the wall and flung around the room, her bed bore deep scratches on the blankets and mattress, as if the zombie had dug her claws in as she was dragged away. The floor was cracked and torn up, a hole was in the far wall where something must have broken through. </span><br/>
<span>And there was a book, floating in midair, in the centre of the room. A book, bound in black, with a familiar purple symbol glowing on the cover.<br/>
</span>
  <span>Grian felt his blood run cold.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh, look, Ray's making a multichapter fic that will absolutely not run on three times longer than it's supposed to.</p><p>I admit ex-watcher!Grian is <i>far</i> from an original concept, but hey. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em! it's a fun sandbox, and I have no regrets!</p><p>Yes, I was writing a Jevin oneshot. That'll come when a certain slime hybrid will cooperate. If he cooperates.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>This is not happening. This is not happening, this is </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>not </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>happening-<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>“Grian?” Joe was slowly waving his hand in front of Grian’s face. <br/>
</span>
  <span>“This isn’t happening,” he muttered. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and his throat was constricting, and his knees were weak, and his wongs felt heavy on his back, like they were weighing him down, and this wasn’t happening, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>be happening-this was just a nightmare, it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>real-<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>“Grian!” Joe was crouched down, at eye level with Grian-when had he slid down the wall? He was panting, he was shaking, his palms felt shaky-<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Sing.” Joe commanded. Grian could only stare at him, the words failing to register-<br/>
</span>
  <span>He’d covered himself, hadn’t he? He’d tried to be careful, tried to conceal himself, boosted the already impressive protective net woven into the world’s fabric, but he’d failed, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>have, or they wouldn’t be staring at that book, and Cleo would still be there-<br/>
</span>
  <span>He never should have agreed to join Hermitcraft, never should have followed them to the new world, never should have taken such a risk, never should have let himself relax, to believe he was safe, and now poor Cleo-<br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>“Sing.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Joe commanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian’s brain wasn’t anywhere close to recalling words, but Joe’s order managed to get through, so he let hesitant, stuttering notes come out of his mouth, not in any real tune, just sounds more than everything. As he kept making them, trying to focus on coaxing out a tune or something, he felt his heartbeat slow, his breathing return to something approaching normal. He was vaguely aware of Joe guiding him out into Cleo’s storage area, out through the hallway around the strange glass box, and into the sunlight. He started to relax, the tightness in his chest easing just slightly.<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Feeling better?” Joe looked scared- no, not scared. Concerned. Worried. For Grian? For Cleo. For both? Why would he be worried about him? Didn’t he know this whole situation was Grian’s fault?<br/>
</span>
  <span>Grian breathed. He was tired. Exhausted. The sky was changing colour. Sunset? Had they been in Cleo’s room for that long?<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Th-the watchers took Cleo.” He said slowly, thinking-hoping- that she’d pop up somewhere, that Joe would reveal this all to be a joke, or a dream, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. <br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>“Looks like it.” Joe was flipping through the book, frowning. It felt wrong to see him so serious, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>grim</span>
  </em>
  <span>.<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You can read Galactic?”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Well, it pays to be able to understand a good range of languages, including German, Zombie, and Galactic, but also this ransom book is in English.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Ransom book?”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“It looks like a book, and it’s shaped like a book, and you can turn the pages like a book, so really it’s a book, but it carries the same function of a ransom note but with approximately eighty per cent more ambiguously ominous wording than usual.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“I… right.” Talking with Joe was always confusing; Grian had even seen Xisuma thrown off balance after a particularly long discussion about the perils of capitalism. And Grian really wasn’t in the right headspace to figure out what the man meant.<br/>
</span>
  <span>Joe led Grian back inside, and then down, into what seemed like another, rougher-looking base. He pointed the winged hermit at the bed, and Grian managed to kick off his shoes before collapsing.<br/>
</span>
  <span>He was out before his head hit the pillow.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Joe watched as Grian started to snore softly, lost in sleep. He hoped he wouldn’t get nightmares- mostly out of care for his friend, but partially because he didn’t want Gian to catch him doing anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flipped open the book again, readjusting his glasses as he did. He’d managed to play it off earlier, but the contents did disturb him quite a lot.<br/>
</span>
  <span>Each line was on a separate page, which was a massive waste of paper as far as Joe was concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Little Runaway.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We have found your world.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We have found you.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We have taken the one you sought to protect most. <br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We have broken through your wards. <br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We have taken it.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>It is broken.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>It has been broken for a long time.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>It was broken long before you found it.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We will fix it.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We will play with it.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We will let you return.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We will let you keep it.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Return to us, Little Runaway.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Return.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We will let you keep it.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>It will be fixed when you return.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We have shredded your wards around it.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Return, Little Runaway.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Return.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Or.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Will.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Let.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>It.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>BURN.<br/>
</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>-The Watchers.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>He snapped the book shut.<br/>
</span>
  <span>He knew exactly what they meant when they said they would ‘fix’ her.<br/>
</span>
  <span>They would not be the first to try.</span><br/>

  <span>And, like the others, they would fail.<br/>
</span>
  <span>Joe would make sure of it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well <i>that's</i> not ominous at all!<br/>Things aren't looking too good for Cleo. Or any of the other hermits, probably.</p><p>Chapter three is already done, too! If I was nice, I would let y'all have it now.<br/>Or I could wait. Let you simmer for a few days.<br/>(:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grian woke slowly, with a feeling of disorientation to find himself in a rough room, and not his mansion. Then the memories rushed back, and he felt like collapsing again.<br/></span>
  <span>Both Joe and the book were gone, so he made his own way out of the room. Now he was better rested, he began to realise he was in a base </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cleo’s base- he’d forgotten Joe had done that. Maybe he should invite the man to join their little group inside Keralis’ base. <br/></span>
  <span>Joe himself was outside, sitting on the top of the enormous glass rainbow arcing over the area. Grian flew up to join him, noticing the small cactus farm inside the thing.<br/></span>
  <span>For some reason, there was a boat floating in the water at the top.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going after her.” Joe’s tone was one that didn’t invite argument; he’d already made up his mind.<br/></span>
  <span>“Joe, they’ll kill you!” The human shrugged.<br/></span>
  <span>“They can try.”<br/></span>
  <span>“This isn’t a joke.”<br/></span>
  <span>“I know.” Grian opened his mouth to argue, but Joe cut him off.<br/></span>
  <span>“Cleo’s my oldest and best friend, Grian. I was there for her when she first changed. She’s given me more than you could know. I’ve patched her up thousands of times. She’s brought me back from the brink more times than I can count. I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>leaving her to those </span>
  <em>
    <span>things</span>
  </em>
  <span> that think they can dictate if she’s broken and how she can be ‘fixed’! I remember the last time someone tried to ‘fix’ her! It was a terrible week! Never again!”<br/></span>
  <span>Grian blinked, startled. “Joe-”<br/></span>
  <span>“You’re not talking me out of this, Grian.”<br/></span>
  <span>He wasn’t. Joe’s jaw was locked, and he almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked </span>
  </em>
  <span>like he wanted a fight. Grian knew stubborn when he saw it.<br/></span>
  <span>“I’ll go with you.” He regretted the words the second they came out, but he had to. He had to help Joe, help Cleo. This was his fault, so he had to fix it. And he had to make sure Joe was okay. He had no idea what he was getting into, no ability to comprehend the vast powers the Watchers held-<br/></span>
  <span>“You sure?” Grian set his jaw and nodded.<br/></span>
  <span>“Grian, I saw your reaction over a </span>
  <em>
    <span>book</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If you don’t want to do this, you aren’t going. I can handle myself just fine.”<br/></span>
  <em>
    <span>“No!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Grian startled them both with his desperation. “No, this my fault, I have to put it right, I can’t let you die out there-”<br/></span>
  <span>“-I’ll be fine.”<br/></span>
  <span>“With no respawn?! Joe, If a Watcher kills you, you’re dead! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dead </span>
  </em>
  <span>dead, not coming back dead!” He shook his head. “I can’t let you go in alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joe stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Well, if your survivor’s guilt is that strong…”<br/></span>
  <span>Grian pointedly ignored that remark.<br/></span>
  <span>“...Then get in the boat.”<br/></span>
  <span>“What?”<br/></span>
  <span>“The boat, Grian.”<br/></span>
  <span>“I- you can’t get to the Observatory by </span>
  <em>
    <span>boat! </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s in space!”<br/></span>
  <span>“We’re not going straight to the Observatory.”<br/></span>
  <span>Grian blinked. “You can’t get to the Nexus by boat, either.”<br/></span>
  <span>“We’re not going to the Nexus.” Joe climbed into the boat. <br/></span>
  <span>“So where-”<br/></span>
  <span>“Traditionally, there’s a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow.” Joe started as Grian scrambled in after him. “However, I would argue that knowledge is far more valuable, and it doesn’t lead to pain and suffering like blood diamonds. Hold on.”<br/></span>
  <span>“What?”<br/></span>
  <span>Joe started to move the boat forwards. They hit the area where the water started moving, and picked up speed, moving faster as gravity and the water’s current both pulled at the boat.<br/></span>
  <span>Then they were airborne, and Grian could see how the boat was going out too far, how it’d hit the sand and not the water...<br/></span>
  <span>He yelled as they fell, clutching at the sides of the boat. He beat his wings instinctively, but his foot was caught between Joe’s hip and the side of the boat. He closed his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They landed with a splash, but the sound echoed strangely. <br/></span>
  <span>He cracked open his eye, then snapped both open with a gasp. Joe was already climbing out, and Grian hopped out after him, fluttering his wings slightly. <br/></span>
  <span>They had landed in a graceful quartz fountain, placed in the middle of a massive, beautiful room. It was made of white concrete, and prismarine, and warped wood, and blocks Grian couldn’t even name. Behind them were shimmering doors that were too large to be anything but piston doors but opened like regular ones, and all around them were corridors leading to who-knows-where.<br/></span>
  <span>“Where are we?” He breathed. Even this room- clearly a hub of some kind- was impossibly beautiful.</span><br/>
  <span>Joe smiled slightly, adjusting his glasses- they must have gotten skewed when they fell.<br/></span>
  <span>“Welcome,” he said, “to The Library.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh, look, Joe and Cleo's rainbow is also a portal to a magic library. Because of course it is.</p>
<p>It's kinda weird having these chapters be shorter than I'm used to, but it's refreshing, in a way. This thing is <s>supposed to be</s> small-scale, so...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Intermission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was dark.<br/>That was the first thing Cleo knew when she woke up- which was strange, because zombies could see in the dark. And didn’t sleep. She was also floating, so for a moment she wondered if she’d somehow gone from undead to actually dead. But she wasn’t a ghost, and she was too stubborn to be anything else.</p><p>She was inside something spherical, and she could see shapes moving outside- shapes of jet black wings and strange purple lights.</p><p>She’d faced death itself, and pulled through.<br/>She wasn’t afraid.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Library was </span>
  <em>
    <span>massive, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not to mention beautiful- Grian had never seen such a stunning piece of architecture. He wanted nothing more than to wander the halls, taking in every block, every detail. The fountain </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone </span>
  </em>
  <span>gave him a dozen different ideas for his mansion’s interior- he could only imagine what the rest of the building held.<br/>
</span>
  <span>Joe was already walking, with the sense of someone who’d seen it a thousand times- maybe he had? Grian didn’t actually know Joe as well as he probably should, but to be fair, the man’s past had never really been something that came up.<br/>
</span>
  <span>Joe turned back to look at him, and Grian jumped, realizing he should probably be following. He scrambled to catch up, his wings twitching.<br/>
</span>
  <span>As they walked, he couldn’t help but stare. Each room had shelves upon shelves of books, and were decorated in a million different ways, with every block imaginable. Diamonds. Diorite. Mycelium. And it somehow </span>
  <em>
    <span>worked</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Nametagged bats flew overhead, larger than the ones Grian was used to, some carrying books in their claws. He asked Joe about it.<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh, they help people find specific books.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“You have trained bats to help people find </span>
  <em>
    <span>books?”<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>“Grian.” Joe turned to look the winged player in the eyes. “This library contains every book ever written, spoken, or thought about, in every language known or forgotten. You would not find anything without the bats. The bats are important.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Okay. The bats are important. Got it.” They resumed walking. Then: <br/>
</span>
  <span>“Why bats?”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“At the time, they were the only mobs capable of flight. And it’s not worth the bother of teaching parrots or phantoms when the bats already know what to do. Besides, you get attached to them after a while. They’re a part of The Library.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“The only- how old </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>this place?”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“The oldest parts were built around the time living beings first figured out storytelling.” Joe glanced back at Grian. “Approximately five million years ago. Most parts are much younger.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Five </span>
  <em>
    <span>million?!”<br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>“Well, a bit less than that.” Joe shrugged, as if an impossibly ancient library </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>a massive deal.<br/>
</span>
  <span>Another thought occurred to him. “So why does Cleo’s rainbow have a portal to-”<br/>
</span>
  <span>“Grian. Don’t question it.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>They kept walking.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The Library was located extremely close to the Centre- it was only a few worlds over. It was actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>closer </span>
  </em>
  <span>to Centre than the regions of some pantheons- it was the closest to Centre mortals got without a deific escort. Not that the players who entered the Library knew that. They all assumed the Nexus- a ‘hub’ allowing players to travel to just about every available world- was </span>
  <em>
    <span>at </span>
  </em>
  <span>Centre.<br/>
</span>
  <span>It wasn’t. Not by a good distance. It was close, sure. But The Library was closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian had stopped to stare at a complex mandala made from glazed terracotta. Joe sighed. It was pretty, sure, but they had more pressing matters to attend to.<br/>
</span>
  <span>Of course, he could probably take the opportunity to slip away, rescue Cleo, and then get them back to Hermitcraft, but he knew Grian well enough to know he’d probably manage to get himself in trouble the moment Joe turned his back. The man had managed to start two wars by playing around with </span>
  <em>
    <span>foliage</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for crying out loud. <br/>
</span>
  <span>Though at this rate, they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to make it to their destination. Joe sighed again. He’d already given in to temptation yesterday; he shouldn’t do it too often or it would become habit... again. But they really needed to get going...<br/>
</span>
  <span>“C’mon, Grian.” He grabbed the winged hermit’s wrist. “We need to get moving.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>Grian jumped, and followed Joe through the next doorway, into a far older room. </span><br/>
<span>He didn’t know The Library enough to question the massive age difference between sections.<br/>
</span>
  <span>It really </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>too easy.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Why the trained bats? I don't know. But I like them. I like bats. Having a pet bat would be awesome. Then again, some bats eat mosquitoes, so I automatically like them.<br/>One of the bats is named Ares. This isn't really relevant to the plot, but it's a thing. It's a reference.<br/>Yay for ancient magical libraries where I can ignore the laws of common sense!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Tunnel Bore Project was coming along nicely.<br/></span>
  <span>Doc felt a glimmer of satisfaction as the machine fired, shooting out blocks TNT in a neat arc and destroying the stone in front of it. It was big, it was efficient, and it was destructive- just the way he liked it.<br/></span>
  <span>Another round of TNT fired, perfectly calculated. He turned to run along in front of the machine, pouring water over lava and killing any stray zombies and skeletons.<br/></span>
  <span>He reached the other end, and, not seeing any inconvenient lava flowing from the ceiling (for once), he struck the note block and watched it fire. And again.<br/></span>
  <span>The world started to dim. Torch-spam time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about halfway done lighting the newly exposed rock up when he sensed something behind him. Doc spun, sword in hand, to see… <em>something</em>. A large portal. The frame was lined with bedrock, but two of the corners floated free of the rest. Inside was a swirling, otherworldly purple- Doc’s first thought was of the old Infinity Portal he’d created.<br/></span>
  <span>This wasn’t the Infinity Portal, though. The vibes were all wrong.<br/></span>
  <span>Doc glanced over at his tunnel bore machine, sitting silently nearby. Could he repurpose part of it to blow this thing up? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Could </span>
  </em>
  <span>he blow this thing up? Did he want to?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The goatfather felt his claws slip on the uneven ground, and he realized he was slowly being pulled toward the extremely ominous portal. He backpedalled rapidly, only to find the suction becoming stronger. He tripped, and dug down, flattening himself against the stone. His claws- both on his hands and feet- dug into whatever they found, a desperate attempt to keep him here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terrifying, he realized that help probably wasn’t coming anytime soon. Doc had been known to go for </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours </span>
  </em>
  <span>down here, so it was unlikely for any of the other hermits to know something was up for maybe a couple of days. And even if someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>find him soon, what could they do? Bedrock wasn’t exactly easy to break. <br/></span>
  <span>He couldn’t even use his communicator without taking one hand off the ground. <br/></span>
  <span>DocM77 was officially </span>
  <em>
    <span>screwed</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pull intensified, and Doc felt himself slip. First one leg, then the other, and he couldn’t pull them back down. Then his organic arm. The robotic one held strong for a moment, but it couldn’t keep his whole body anchored for long. Then Doc- creeper, cyborg, goatfather- was flying through the portal.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The ransom book was glowing.<br/></span>
  <span>Both Joe and Grian stared down at it, and then Joe flipped it open.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Little Runaway.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>It appears you do not care much for this broken creature, despite the wards you placed around it.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>You did not even READ our message.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Big mistake, Little Runaway.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We have found your world.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We have taken another.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>This one is far more broken than the first.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>It is an ABOMINATION.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We will fix it.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We will fix it as we fix the first.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>We will even let you keep them both, if you comply.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Return, Little Runaway.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Return.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>Or their fate will be to BURN.<br/></em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em>-The Watchers.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe slammed the book shut to find Grian staring at him.<br/></span>
  <span>“What did it say?”<br/></span>
  <span>Joe shrugged, hoping the ex-watcher didn’t pry too much. Grian already felt guilty enough.<br/></span>
  <span>“Not much. More ominous messages. Some vague explanation as to why they took Cleo.” He hesitated. Should he tell him? “Looks like they’ve kidnapped someone else.”<br/></span>
  <span>The look Grian gave him- one filled with guilt and fear- was exactly the one Joe had been hoping to avoid. The colourful wings were twitching again.<br/></span>
  <span>“Who?” Grian’s voice was on the verge of breaking.<br/></span>
  <span>“Didn’t say.” Joe considered it for a moment. “Does ‘broken’ mean something specific in Watcher land?”<br/></span>
  <span>“Yes. I- it’s hard to explain. It means something like…” Grian paused, visibly backtracked. <br/></span>
  <span>“Players that... aren’t...human? I guess? Something like that?”<br/></span>
  <span>“Thought so.” Joe shoved the ransom book back in his inventory. “It’ll probably be either Doc or Jevin, then. My blood’s on Doc.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>what’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>on Doc?!”<br/></span>
  <em>
    <span>Good work, Joe. Cleo’s not here, remember? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The hermit sighed. “I’ll explain as we walk.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well. That's not good. Doc's probably not very happy.<br/>Also. Joe. What exactly are you and Cleo <i>doing?</i> Betting your own blood? Seriously? Who's idea was that?<br/>(Cleo. it was Cleo's idea.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>place?” Gone were the high corridors and massive rooms; instead, they were in a hallway with doors at regular intervals. Signs beside the doors provided a number and, more often than not, a name or two. <br/></span>
  <span>“Oh, this is the residential area.”<br/></span>
  <span>“People </span>
  <em>
    <span>live </span>
  </em>
  <span>here?”<br/></span>
  <span>“Naturally. People often devote their lives to the pursuit of knowledge; of course they’d want to live in the Library. They don’t want for food or drink; nobody here does.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Right.”<br/></span>
  <span>“People have lived out their entire lives here” Joe added, slightly thoughtful. “They’re born, grow up, perhaps find a partner and have kids, then die, all without ever leaving the Library. Families have lived here for generations, in some cases.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Wow.” Briefly, Grian couldn’t help but wonder what that kind of life would be like. Would he want that?<br/></span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably not, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he admitted to himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I would get very bored.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Still, he couldn’t help but entertain the possibility for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They turned down a hall that led to the ‘librarian's quarters’</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>according to the sign. It was shorter than the residential hallway, with fewer doors. Grian blinked. Was Joe friends with a librarian? Why was he even surprised? That was very much a Joe thing to do.<br/></span>
  <span>The other hermit clearly knew where he was going as he headed down the hall, not even bothering to read the signs dictating who lived where. Grian hurried to catch up, curious. Where was Joe </span>
  <em>
    <span>going?<br/></span>
  </em>
  <span>Another thought occurred to him.<br/></span>
  <span>“Were </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>born here?”<br/></span>
  <span>“Me?” Joe seemed… almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>amused? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“No.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Do you live here?”<br/></span>
  <span>“I used to.”<br/></span>
  <span>“For how long?”<br/></span>
  <span>“I can’t remember. A long time.” Joe shrugged. “Then I decided to go adventuring. I had a strange encounter, and then I met Cleo. I stuck around annoying her for a while, then spent some time exploring ancient temples with her apartment as a home base. We’ve been friends ever since.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Right.”<br/></span>
  <span>“We got married,” Joe added thoughtfully. “The law in that server wouldn’t let me stay otherwise. It was just a legal thing, we never were interested in each other. I don’t think we’re still married anymore, though. Cleo’s legally dead.”<br/></span>
  <span>“That makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>sense whatsoever.”<br/></span>
  <span>“That’s fine, it doesn’t really matter anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They arrived at the door down the end of the hall. ‘Head Librarian’, the sign declared. Joe didn’t even glance at it before pushing the door open.<br/></span>
  <span>Inside was… a fairly regular office. It looked old- all cobble and oak wood- and surprisingly cosy, with a fireplace in one corner (firetick must be off, then), and a desk in the middle.<br/></span>
  <span>The desk looked fairly ordinary- paperwork neatly stacked off to one side, a few rouge pens, a computer in the middle and a couple of books on the floor beside it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were also pencil sketches on the wall, and Grian couldn’t help but look at them. One was of one of the library bats, one was just a sheet covered in variations of Joe’s ‘at’ symbol, with notes added in a language that looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>vaguely </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Galactic but clearly wasn’t. One was a sketch of Xisuma’s helmet, one was Iskall’s eyepiece. One was a picture of Cleo, but she looked different. Younger. Alive. It was weird seeing her as a human- she’d been a zombie forever, as far as Grian was concerned (with the one small exception of Demise). The one that caught his attention, however, was of him, Ren, and Impulse, all in their hippie outfits. All in all, it was confusing. Why would the head librarian have so many pictures of hermits? Unless…<br/></span>
  <span>“Joe,” Grian said, slightly incredulously. “Are you the </span>
  <em>
    <span>head librarian </span>
  </em>
  <span>of this place?”<br/></span>
  <span>“What? Oh, yeah.”<br/></span>
  <span>Grian slowly turned around to stare at him, blinking.<br/></span>
  <span>“You’re the </span>
  <em>
    <span>head </span>
  </em>
  <span>of this entire library.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Yes.” Joe raised an eyebrow. He seemed vaguely amused, </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>.<br/></span>
  <em>
    <span>“How.”<br/></span>
  </em>
  <span>“It just kinda happened. The other librarians are perfectly capable of handling the day-to-day stuff; the most I ever needed to do was sign paperwork, really. They’re used to me going off to do my own thing.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Right.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Now come on, I need to go check something in the forbidden section.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Friendship is marrying your friend so he can live with you. <br/>Just as a disclaimer: I don't ship Joe and Cleo- or any real people with anyone. But I feel like they'd get married for legal reasons if they had to.<br/>And Cleo's legally dead, so now it doesn't matter!</p><p>Oh and Joe's the head of a giant interdimensional magic library, I guess, but is anyone really surprised?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“There’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>forbidden section?!”<br/></span>
  </em>
  <span>Joe really shouldn’t have been surprised at the way Grian’s eyes lit up at that. He was completely incorrigible.<br/></span>
  <span>“Yes. It’s where we keep all our forbidden books.” There weren’t many of those- Joe was all for free speech and personal expression- but there were certain books that were absolutely not safe for the general public to read. Books like the Original Necronomicon, like the laws of the universe, like the Watcher spellbooks that explained how they destroyed worlds, like the billion-names-long lists of every god in existence. Books that sent people spiralling into insanity, that could kill thousands, that could alter the laws of reality or destroy the space-time continuum.<br/></span>
  <span>He looked at Grian.<br/></span>
  <span>“Don’t touch any of them.”<br/></span>
  <span>“But-”<br/></span>
  <span>“I mean it. Best-case scenario, you go completely insane. Worst-case scenario, you destroy the universe.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Oh.” Grian seemed slightly startled by Joe’s harsh tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe opened his desk drawer and rummaged around, opening a portal behind him as he did so. The forbidden section didn’t have a traditional door; the only way to enter it was through a portal. Normal librarians had to rely on enchanted artefacts, but Joe wasn’t a normal librarian. Still, so long as Grian thought the secret was in his desk drawer, Joe was good.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The forbidden section did not, in fact, look like one’s traditional forbidden section- it was more like a museum, if you asked Grian. About fifty or so books and scrolls were spaced around the room in a large circle, each encased in a glowing magical bubble. Runes that looked vaguely Galactic but </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>floated around in the form of magical chains, glowing pure white.<br/></span>
  <span>He couldn’t help but stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was fairly dark, but there was more than enough light to navigate. It seemed to be made entirely out of some strange material Grian didn’t recognize, but looked as hard as bedrock.<br/></span>
  <span>“What’s that language?” He asked, pointing at the white runes. Joe didn’t look up, pacing around the room to check each book.<br/></span>
  <span>“Proto-Galactic,” Joe responded, “a much older form of the language. You don’t see it around much these days.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Wow.” Grian couldn’t help but move closer, staring. “It’s beautiful.”<br/></span>
  <span>“<em>All</em> languages are beautiful in their own way."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey Grian?”<br/></span>
  <span>“Yeah?”<br/></span>
  <span>The portal in the centre of the room snapped shut. Grian whirled around. <br/></span>
  <span>“What are you-”<br/></span>
  <span>“I’m truly sorry about this, I really am, but it’s safer this way. I’ll be back soon, I swear. You don’t know what they’ll do to you- how much damage they’d do with that sort of power. To entire worlds, to the very fabric of the universe- to you, if you can’t comprehend. And you won’t. Nobody can.”<br/></span>
  <span>“What are you saying?”<br/></span>
  <span>Joe vanished into thin air. <br/></span>
  <span>“Joe? JOE?!”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Cleo was floating in the middle of her dark bubble contemplating elaborate forms of revenge. Most of those forms of revenge involved decapitation, broken limbs, potatoes and/or Cthulhu, but that was neither here nor there. <br/></span>
  <span>She was rudely interrupted when a rather heavy goat-creeper-cyborg flew through the wall and collided with her, shouting loud angry insults in German.<br/></span>
  <span>“Hi, Doc! Fancy seeing you here.” She was probably going crazy. Crazier than usual, anyway.<br/></span>
  <span>Doc blinked.<br/></span>
  <span>“Cleo? Why are you here? What’s going on?”<br/></span>
  <span>“I got kidnapped, and no idea.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Where are we?”<br/></span>
  <span>“Also no idea.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Do you know </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything?”<br/></span>
  </em>
  <span>“The portal that I got pulled through looked like a Watcher portal?”<br/></span>
  <span>“A what now?”<br/></span>
  <span>“They’re a group of <em>extremely</em> unpleasant gods.”<br/></span>
  <span>“...Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fell silent for a moment.<br/></span>
  <span>“Would you mind getting off me now?”<br/></span>
  <span>“Sorry.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh, so <i>that's</i> where Doc ended up! Well, that's one mystery solved.</p><p>Also, Joe, could you afford to be a <i>little</i> less vague when abandoning your gremlin servermate in the forbidden section of your ancient magical library like nothing could possibly go wrong? Thanks.</p><p>And look at me, posting four days in a row! Now I'm out, so either I'll write more over the weekend or I'll get distracted binging Wels and Hypno's content. Who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Grian curls his wings around himself. These wings- four massive, jet-black limbs- were the closest thing to a positive in this situation, as far as he’s concerned, and they’re still far too large and unwieldy. The robes are uncomfortable and hard to move in, the mask is even worse. He misses his lightweight jumper, his comfortable pants, the feeling of the wind on his face. <br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>He senses movement and looks up, peering through the door. He hears footsteps, but they aren’t normal Watcher footsteps. Is there another Ascended player here? Is he not alone, after all?<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>The words of the Watchers echo through his head. </span>
  </em>
  <b>Stay here. Stay put. Behave yourself. <br/></b>
  <em>
    <span>Of course, Grian has never been good at following orders.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He peeks around the doorway, and blinks. He can see brown hair, a cyan T-shirt, blue pants, grey shoes…<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>In other words, an ordinary human being. Wandering the halls of the Observatory. <br/></span>
  </em>
  <span>Is this some sort of test?<br/></span>
  <span>But if it isn’t… he’s in danger.<br/></span>
  <em>
    <span>Grian hurried toward him. “Hey!” he hisses. “Hey, buddy, you need to get out of…” The player turns toward Grian, and he sees his eyes. A piercing, glowing white.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Herobrine.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Grian has heard the stories, of course- who hasn’t? And becoming a Watcher led him to learn even more about the strange being that haunts the universe.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <b>This being has been called by many names and titles, </b>
  <em>
    <span>they’d taught him. </span>
  </em>
  <b>Herobrine is the most common, for now, but he is also known as the First Player, as the Player With White Eyes, as the One Who Walks Alone, as He Who Wanders the Fabric of the Universe, as the God of Creation and Destruction, although he claims he is not a god. He could extinguish the entire universe with a single word, if he so wished, and if we were not there to stop him. This is your true role as a Watcher; we protect the universe from this being. And you, Little Bird, will be </b>
  <b>
    <em>instrumental </em>
  </b>
  <b>in finally stemming his power.<br/></b>
  <em>
    <span>Herobrine turned and continued on his way while Grian was thinking, and the young Watcher hesitated. Should he follow him? The intelligent, rational part of him told him no. Herobrine was incomprehensibly powerful, extremely dangerous, and, if the Watchers were right, probably had a hatred for Watchers in general.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Uh, Herobrine?” The player (?) turns again, cocking his head.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re in danger. The Watchers- you can’t stay here-” Herobrine smiles and puts his finger to his lips. Grian tenses, but nothing happens. The world doesn't explode.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Herobrine slowly steps toward Grian. He shrinks back instinctively. Those eyes- the pure white eyes- hold both everything and nothing all at once.  Everything, because Grian </span>
  </em>
  <span>knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>this character had existed since the very beginning of the universe. He didn’t need to be told; he could tell from just a glance. Nothing, because Grian could sense a veil between them and the rest of the world. But he’s fine with that, because he can suspect that if, had he seen those terrible eyes in their true form, he wouldn’t be able to handle it.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Herobrine stands before him, staring down with no expression. Grian is half-crouched, his wings curled around him, trying to make himself look as small and harmless as possible. He feels tears slip down his cheeks behind the mask, a feeling that is </span>
  </em>
  <span>far </span>
  <em>
    <span>too familiar by this point.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please…” he whispers, not even sure what he was begging for. Please spare him? Please leave? Please help?<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Herobrine’s fingers slip under his chin. He tugs, slightly, and Grian stumbles to his feet in accordance with the being’s wishes. His heart is in his throat, and he fully expects to die then and there. Herobrine hated Watchers, didn’t he? They were the only thing stopping him from destroying the universe. He’s going to die, blotted from existence, then and there…<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Herobrine slowly lifts the mask from Grian’s face.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Grian gasps, trying to fill his lungs, feeling the magic flowing through him slowly ebb away. His robes shift and change, back into the clothes he’s used to. He stands there dumbly, watching as the mask- his hated mask- cracks and shatters in Herobrine’s hands. Mist curls out, a thick white fog, and where it touches Grian’s skin he feels tingling, similar to pins-and-needles. The mist surrounds them, grows thicker, until all Grian can see are those two glowing eyes, burning in the mist.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Then Herobrine turns, and Grian loses all frame of reference.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait!” He calls, heart thumping in his ears. He runs forwards, toward where the being should be. His footsteps are the only sounds he could hear; beating down against the strange material that made up the observatory, until all of a sudden…<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>They aren’t.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sand shifts beneath Grian’s feet, causing him to trip and fall. He gets up, and finds the fog is gone. He’s on a small island, sand and grass, in the middle of an ocean. There are plants below the waves, and fish are darting among them.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He reaches over his shoulder to find his wings, but something’s different. There’s only two of them now, snow-white in colour, and they’re a much more fitting size than the oversized limbs the Watchers had given him. He opens them, and finds they're far more responsive as well.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>Grian jumps out of his skin when a portal suddenly appears, panicking for a moment before realizing it’s more of a Nether Portal than something created by the Watchers. A player steps through; he’s big and burly, clad in strange green armour, and, for some reason, has the head of a turtle. He seems just as surprised to see Grian as Grian is to see him, but he doesn’t seem hostile.<br/></span></em><em><span>Another player comes through- a blonde man with glowing red eyes, who regards Grian with curiosity. Then two more, one an ordinary-looking man with glasses and an ‘at’ symbol on his shirt, the other a woman with red hair and green skin who seems to size Grian up. Then more, a steady stream of players stepping through the portal. He’s not really sure what to think, his poor strained heart beating in his throat, but none of them seem outright hostile.<br/></span></em><em><span>“For Sparta!” A bearded player with a robotic eye leapt out of the group toward Grian, who yelps and scrambles back. <br/></span></em><em><span>“Iskall!” They’re pulled back by a man in a suit, who sounds rather flustered. He gives Grian a nervous smile beneath his moustache, looking rather awkward.<br/></span></em><em><span>“Sorry about that.”<br/></span></em><span>Who are these people?<br/></span><em><span>As if he’d heard Grian’s thought, the turtle-headed man stepped forwards, offering Grian his hand.<br/></span></em><em><span>“Hi there, I’m Xisuma. Please excuse Iskall’s… enthusiasm…</span></em> <em><span>I promise they’re friendly.” He shot a look at the player, who just grins in response.<br/></span></em><span>“Uh,</span><em><span> Grian,” he replies, hesitantly shaking Xisuma’s hand. He's pretty sure he isn’t supposed to be here; these people all clearly know each other, while he doesn’t recognize any of them. A number of them are still watching him with a sort of friendly curiosity, but others have split off into their own conversations. A bearded guy in a labcoat is looking over a map with a scarred cowboy. A man with a red shirt is deep in conversation with what looks to be a creeper-cyborg-thing. The red-haired woman and the guy with the ‘at’ symbol are rapidly speaking in a language Grian doesn’t recognize, glancing back at him occasionally and completely ignoring the confused looks others are throwing them.</span></em></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, Grian, I’m not sure how you got here, but this wouldn’t be the first time someone’s inexplicably wound up on our server with no explanation,” Xisuma says calmly. “Now you’re here, do you want to stay?”<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Stay?” Grian echoed, startled. “Oh no- I couldn’t- it wouldn’t be-”<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Grian.” Xisuma’s hand is on his shoulder and his eyes are gentle. “You’re in no danger here, I promise. I understand you’re a bit overwhelmed, but if you haven’t got another server to get back to, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Grian thinks of the Watchers, and how they’ve probably noticed his absence by now. He thinks of Evo, which he will never be able to go back to. He can’t stay here; he’ll be putting all these people in danger. But Xisuma is right- he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Maybe he can stay a few days, until he could find somewhere he won’t be putting others in danger?<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Slowly, he nods. Xisuma’s face split into a turtle’s smile.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, Grian,” He says loudly, and the others stopped their conversations and looked over, “welcome to Hermitcraft.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grian slowly woke up, his wings curled around his body. He felt a rush of disorientation, then remembered. He was in the Library’s forbidden section. He’d stayed on Hermitcraft, and now Joe, Cleo and Doc were all in danger. And it was his fault.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Cleo yelped as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>angry slime hybrid collided with her. Jevin was cussing quite creatively, and seemed extremely disorientated. <br/></span>
  <span>“Jev- Jevin! Get </span>
  <em>
    <span>off </span>
  </em>
  <span>me!” She shoved him off, and his verbal torrent petered out as he noticed both zombie and creeper watching him.<br/></span>
  <span>“They got you too, huh?” Doc asked after a moment.<br/></span>
  <span>“Where are we?” Jevin demanded.<br/></span>
  <span>“No idea,” Cleo offered. “We think we’ve been kidnapped by a pack of ancient asshole gods.”<br/></span>
  <span>“Seriously?”<br/></span>
  <span>“Yeah. Do you know if anyone’s managed to piss these Watcher things off at any point?” Doc asked, scratching at his arm. He blinked as a couple of green scales floated away.<br/>"Could it be Grian?" Cleo offered. "He's got wings, and he seems to get pretty weird about them sometimes."<br/></span>
  <span>“Right,” Jevin said, glancing between them. “Is now a bad time to mention Grian and Joe have also both disappeared?”<br/></span>
  <span>A thought occurred to Cleo, and she made a note to consider it later.<br/></span>
  <span>“Grian I get, if Cleo’s right, but how is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Joe </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrapped up in all of this?” Doc asked. Cleo winced. She knew why he was getting involved, but it was one of the things she couldn’t explain.<br/></span>
  <span>“Cleo, have you got something to share with the class?” Jevin asked after a moment. She ignored him. <br/></span>
  <span>“Jev, did anyone see you get caught by the portal?”<br/></span>
  <span>“Yeah, I was with Hypno-” He jerked suddenly. “Hypno! Another portal caught him, I think, but he’s not here-”<br/></span>
  <span>“Are you sure?”<br/></span>
  <span>“No, I might have been seeing things, it was only for a moment…”<br/></span>
  <span>“Oh, <em>Goatmother</em>.” Doc devolved into German curses. Cleo agreed with him, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she picked a green scale out of the air. Something about it didn’t sit right with her.<br/></span>
  <span>“Doc,” she said finally, breaking into his tirade, “do creepers usually shed?”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Hypno ground slowly picking himself off the ground. He looked around slowly.<br/></span>
  <span>He was in a grand room, made almost entirely of some sort of block that was black as the void and filled with stars. There was a domed ceiling, and bone-white pillars, and some sort of bedrock pattern on the floor.<br/></span>
  <span>“Jevin?” he called, almost dreading the answer.<br/></span>
  <b>
    <em>I’m afraid he isn’t here. </em>
  </b>
  <span>Hypno jumped, violently. There was something there- a massive humanoid figure, swathed in jet-black robes. A dark mask was on its face, inlaid with the same symbol on the floor. Four massive, feathered wings were folded behind its back.</span><br/>
  <span>“Who are you?” Hypno demanded, his heart thumping in his chest. “Where am I? What do you want?”<br/></span>
  <b>
    <em>We want </em>
  </b>
  <b>you,</b>
  <b>
    <em> Seer. </em>
  </b>
  <span>The thing- some kind of god? replied. </span>
  <b>
    <em>We need you to complete the ritual. As for your other questions… </em>
  </b>
  <span>it spread its arms wide. </span>
  <b>
    <em>This is the Auditorium, and we are the Listeners.</em>
  </b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun Fact: The Listeners are an actual thing. In actual Evo lore. Nobody ever brings them up, but both they and Hypno have decided to forcefully introduce themselves to the narrative. <br/>...I'm gonna have to update the character tags, aren't I.</p>
<p>I know 'auditorium' doesn't technically have anything to do with audio, but arguably 'observatory' and observations are the same way, so the lore reason is that Watchers and Listeners are both incapable of using a dictionary.</p>
<p>I hc them as being members of the same 'species' (or the closest gods have to a species) but they're two separate factions who hate each other because of some stupid, arbitrary reason that doesn't even matter. You know, just like in real life!</p>
<p>I would like to establish that I have watched precious little Hypno content, so if he's OOC I apologise in advance.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>